The next day, immediately after class, I decided to check out Roxborough State Park for the first time, hoping that because it was a Thursday just after noon, it wouldn’t be too busy. Much like Red Rocks, Roxborough’s a famous State Park meant to preserve even more red rock formations riding up from the bedrock between the hogbacks and the foothills. I was a little disheartened by the line of vehicles parked at the gate to the state park. As I drove by, I noticed all but one of the vehicles had out-of-state plates. “Damn tourists…” I grumbled to myself as I passed by, fully aware of the fact that I, too, qualified as a tourist. But, unlike those people, I already had a state park pass along with my up-to-date Colorado plates.
However, like all of those non-Coloradans, I had no idea where I was going. I'd never been to Roxborough State Park before. I hoped it would be as spectacular and immersive as Ken Caryl Valley despite its fame, especially on a weekday afternoon. But, when I finally followed the road into the valley where the red rock formations jutted out from the soil, I was disappointed to see that nearly every parking space in all three lots were taken. And brightly-colored clothes from faraway hikers could be seen everywhere I glanced.
Still, I found a parking space and tried to maintain a positive attitude. I figured if I hiked deep enough into the wilderness, I could find some respite from everyone else. Maybe, I thought, I would even stumble across some muleys or even elk! Actually… I was bored of mule deer, but I still hoped to come across some elk. At the visitor’s center, I picked up a map and decided to venture down the least-traveled trail. To my pleasant surprise, the trail was very well maintained and very quiet. As I followed it under the shade of numerous barren gambel oaks, spotted towhees, robins, and mountain chickadees filled the still air with their song. I tried to get some pictures of a towhee on a branch above my head, but he flew away before I could properly focus on him.
Just as he flew away, however, the birdsong stopped and was replaced by someone in the parking lot blasting shitty rap music from their vehicle. I couldn’t hear the lyrics, but I could almost feel the beat. My bliss was gone as fast as the birdsong thanks to that guy. Then, I caught a very strong scent of perfume on the breeze, just in time to hear a large group of people well before they came around the bend. The scent was so strong that I nearly choked on it. “No wonder the birds got the hell outta Dodge…” I thought to myself.
At that point, I accepted that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in Roxborough park, and decided it was time to go home. Not without getting at least one decent picture of Roxborough’s rock formations, however (which I did around several other people doing the exact same thing, most of whom were obviously from out-of-town).
With my metaphorical ears flattened, I sauntered back to my Xterra and decided to speed back to the serenity of Ken Caryl Valley to get some much needed alone time in actual nature. Where it would be just me, the birds, the deer, the red rocks, and the occasional (and much more respectful and respectable) fellow Ken Caryl resident.
